against me."
"Then," said the infuriate, "let me have death straightway."
Springing up with the suppleness and rapidity of the wild beast, she leaped to break her head against the wall. But Balsamo had merely to stretch out his hands toward her and utter a single word rather with his will than with his lips, to stop her dead. She stopped, indeed, reeled and dropped sleep-stricken in the magnetiser's arms.
The strange enchanter, who seemed to rule all the material part of the woman though the mental portion baffled him, lifted up Lorenza in his arms and carried her to the couch; there he laid a long kiss on her lips, drew the curtains of bed and windows, and left her.
A sweet and blessed sleep enveloped her like the cloak of a kind mother wrapping the willful child who has much suffered and wept.
Chapter XXXIX.
The Predicted Visit.
Lorenza was not mistaken.
A carriage, going through St. Denis gateway, and following the street of the same name, turned into the road leading out to the Bastille.
As the clairvoyant had stated, this conveyance enclosed the Cardinal Prince of Rohan, Bishop of Strasburg, whose impatience had caused him to anticipate the hour fixed for his visit to the magician in his cave of mystery.
The coachman, who had been inured to obscurity, pitfalls and dangers of some darksome streets by the prelate's love adventures, was not daunted the least when, after leaving the part of the way still populated and lighted, he had to take the black and lonesome Bastille Boulevard.
The vehicle stopped at the corner of St. Claude Street, where it hid along the trees twenty paces off.
Prince Rohan, in plain dress, glided up the street, and rapped three times on the door, which he easily recognized from the indication the count had afforded.
Fritz's steps sounded in the passage, and he opened the door.
"Is it here resides Count Fenix?" inquired Rohan.
"Yes, my lord, and he is at home."
"Say a visitor is here."
"Shall I announce his Eminence Cardinal Prince de Rohan?" asked Fritz.
The prince stood aghast, looking round him and at himself to see if anything about him in costume or surroundings betrayed his rank. No; he was alone and in civilian dress.
"How do you know my name?" he inquired.
"My lord told me just now, that he expected your Eminence."
"Yes, but to-morrow, or the day after?"
"Not so, please your highness—this evening."
"Announce me, any way," said the prelate, putting a double-louis gold piece in his hand.
Fritz intimated that the visitor should follow him; and he walked briskly to the door of the ante-chamber, which a large chandelier with a dozen tapers illuminated. The visitor followed, surprised and meditative.
"There must be some mistake, my friend," he said, pausing at the door, "in which case I do not wish to disturb the count. It is impossible he can expect me, as he could not know I was coming."
"As your highness is Cardinal Prince Rohan, you are certainly expected by my lord."
Lighting the other candelabra, Fritz bowed and went out. Five minutes elapsed, during which the prelate, the prey to singular emotion, scanned the elegant furniture of the room, and the half-dozen paintings by masters on the tapestried walls. When the door opened, Count Fenix appeared on the threshold.
"Good-evening to your highness," he simply said.
"I am told that you expected me," observed the visitor, without replying to the welcome. "Expected this evening? impossible!"
"I ask your pardon, but I was expecting your highness," returned the host. "I may be doubted, seeing how paltry is my reception, but I have hardly got settled yet, from being but a few days in town. I hope for your eminence's excusing me."
"My visit expected? Who could have forewarned you?"
"Yourself, my lord. When you called your footman to the carriage door, did you not say to him: 'Drive to St. Claude Street, in the Swamp, by St. Denis Street and the Boulevard?'—words which he repeated to the driver?"
"Yes; but how could you see this and hear the words, not being present?"
"I was not there, but I saw and heard at this distance, as I am, you must not forget, a wizard."
"I had forgotten. By the way, am I to entitle you Baron Balsamo or Count Fenix!"
"In my own house I have no title—I am plainly The Master."
"Ah, the title in alchemy. So, my master in hermetics, if you expected me, the fire would be lit in the laboratory!"
"The fire is always kept burning, my lord. And I will have the honor to show your highness into the place."
"I follow you on the condition that you do not personally confront me with the devil. I am dreadfully afraid of his Satanic Majesty Lucifer."
"My lord, my familiar friends," replied Balsamo, "never forget how to deal with princes, and they will behave properly."
"This encourages me; so, ho! for the laboratory."
Chapter XL.
The Art Of Making Gold.
The two threaded a narrow staircase which led, as did the grand stairs, to the first floor rooms, but a door was under an archway there, which the guide opened and the cardinal bravely walked into a dark corridor thus disclosed.
Balsamo shut the door, and the sound of the closing made the visitor look back with some emotion.
"We have arrived," said the leader. "Only one door to open and shut behind us. Do not be astonished at the noise it makes, as it is of iron."
It was fortunate that the cardinal was warned in time, for the snap of the handle and the grinding of the hinges might make nerves more susceptible than his to vibrate.
They went down three steps and entered a large cell with rafters overhead, a huge lamp with shade, many books, and a number of chemical and physical instruments—such was the aspect.
In a few seconds the cardinal felt a difficulty in breathing.
"What does this mean, my lord?" he asked. "The water is streaming off me and I am stifling. What sound is that, master?"
"This
